THE WEDDING TRIP and BEYOND

Menu

Praiano

Everyone was gone. But the villa was still ours until tomorrow and we had the whole day before us. The sun was blazing, the skies were clear. And we were on the Amalfi Coast!

Do you see the convent way up on the mountain?

Even though Gino would have preferred to spend the day on the upper deck of the villa by the pool, I cajoled him into hiking up to a gleaming white building that I had spied way up high on the mountain facing the sea. Our map indicated this was the church of Santa Maria a Castro and an abandoned convent. I knew the views would be stupendous and I couldn’t wait to see.

We started along the trail, trudging upwards until the path turned to dirt. Trees offered some shade along the way, but mostly we were exposed to the blazing sun. As we ascended, we met no one. Several rustic benches placed along the way provided periodic resting points and we welcomed the smooth wooden seats more than once.

The tiny white convent and church drew closer and closer. A small grotto appeared around a corner, a statue of the Madonna tucked inside. A religious scene in painted tiles was framed into a whitewashed block on the outside of the grotto.

As we finally reached the convent, a small terraced vineyard came into view. Although it appeared to be well-tended, there was no sign of life. Wide stone steps led us alongside the church and into a small tree-lined courtyard.

The door to the church was open so we went in. No one was about. Inside, it was cool and quiet. We poked around, peering at the misshapen wooden altar distorted from time, and the faint 15th century frescoes that adorned the crumbly walls. Bits of refuse littered the floor, but despite the disarray, the sanctity of this ancient church was palpable in the pervading stillness.

This precipitous site has been used for religious worship since the area’s first human settlements. Over time, the church of Santa Maria a Castro was built, and later, the Convento di San Domenico. Monks abandoned the convent in the 1800’s, but this spot is still venerated as a spiritual gathering point at certain times of the year. Today, we had it all to ourselves.

We found a drinking faucet and refreshed ourselves. While Gino sat under a tree to rest, I walked over to inspect a majolica sign commemorating the foundation of the convent in 1599. In doing so, I spied the continuing trail, heading farther up the mountain. Of course, I had to follow it, at least for a bit, especially when a wooden arrow indicated that the Path of the Gods was not far off.

Beyond the convent, the trail became quite rocky. I scrabbled around boulders, careful not to let my camera bang as I strained upwards. Out of nowhere, I came upon a lemon grove. Way up here? I paused on a rocky outcrop to look back on my progress and spotted Gino far below. I waved, and he waved back.

But the path had become precarious, and reluctantly, I abandoned my climb. As I carefully picked my way back down to the church, I stopped more than once to stare in disbelief at the dramatic sweep of La Costiera Amalfitana stretching out as far as I could see. The town of Praiano was a teensy speck below. I felt like I was flying, but without having left the ground.

Gino and I took last gulps of water before starting our descent back to town. As we passed the small vineyard again, we were surprised to see a woman working amongst the vines. We greeted her and plodded down the dry trail, finally emerging onto the main road of Praiano.

It was time for a rest. Bar del Sole was open, so we sat on the outside deck and ordered Spritz al’ Aperol, a refreshing, slightly bitter aperitivo made with prosecco, Pellegrino, and with an orange-colored liqueur called Aperol. Delizioso!

Back at the villa, we lounged on the upper deck awhile, luxuriating in its spaciousness, but wistful of its emptiness. We wandered from room to room, remembering the great times we had all shared over the past week. Sadly, we packed up for our morning departure.

For dinner that night, we went to Hotel Margherita one last time. Sitting at a cozy table at the edge of the rooftop terrace, we gazed out at the deepening sky, blurry where it met the sea — a muted watercolor come to life.

But something was changing. It appeared the weather goddess was unhappy that our group had disbanded: a breeze kept extinguishing our candle. In the fading light we could see faint clouds gathering in the distance. It was time to move on.

Everyone was set to depart. Sharon and Dan had left in their rental car very early in the morning before the rest of us had woken up. They wanted to tackle the Amalfi Coast road when there was little traffic.

Tony and Gianni were next to leave. The two of them would spend a few days sightseeing in the Mercedes as they meandered north through Italy. Tony would catch a plane home from Milano.

Donatella and Nakita left at the same time. They were driving straight home in the camper. It would be a long drive to their house in Ranco, on the south shore of Lago Maggiore.

The kids were going to Rome to spend the day and night. They would fly home from there the next morning. It was time to drag their baggage down to Hotel Margherita, one last time. We shuffled down together, excited for our respective adventures just around the corner, but also sad for the end of our time together at the villa.

We had decided to splurge and arrange for a car to transport them to Roma. With all the wedding gear, it would be so much easier. Unfortunately, Andrea wouldn’t be driving them this time.

A small van was waiting when we walked up to Hotel Margherita. They stacked their bags into the back, Nichole’s precious wedding dress lying on top of the pile. Then it was time to say goodbye. I knew they would be fine, but I was so sad to see them go.

The driver and the kids, ready for their adventure in Rome

We all hugged, and they piled in, jabbering excitedly. I waved forlornly, holding back the tears as the van pulled away. I watched until their smiling faces in the windows had disappeared from sight. They were going to have a great time in Roma.

No one was left but Gino and me. And that villa. But we wouldn’t be leaving Praiano until the next day. In the morning, we would head farther south into Puglia in a rental car. Today seemed like a perfect day to hike to the top of the world.

Champagne glasses had already been set out on the coffee table in the shaded pergo at the side of the terrace. We raised our glasses in a heartfelt toast — Auguri! — best of wishes to Kris and Nichole!

The photographer was clicking away, arranging and rearranging various combinations of people against the backdrop of the sea. Then it was time for the bride and groom to take off in Gianni’s car. The photographer would follow on his motorino. The rest of us would meet up with them in Amalfi for dinner.

Allie, Nichole, and Candace

Sharon, right where that dove had landed earlier

After Nichole and Kris had taken off with Gianni and the photographer, the ladies decorated their bedroom. They scattered rose petals on the bed and tied ribbons all around.

Allie and Tony, leaving the villa to meet the van to Amalfi

Time to meet Andrea —
he would be driving us to Amalfi for the wedding dinner

And then…the violinist broke into Here Comes the Bride. We all turned towards the steps that led up from the lower deck, watching with smiles and glistening eyes as Tony, in a dark suit, led his daughter by the arm past the now silent swimming pool and down the rose petal-strewn “aisle.”

In a long, bejeweled strapless mermaid gown, Nichole was truly breathtaking. Tony tenderly handed off his girl to her new husband, who took her hand and prepared anew to repeat solemn vows in this more elegant and traditional ceremony.

The officiant spoke a few of his own words, then read the vows that Kris and Nichole had prepared. The violinist played softly. Anna hung towards the back, making sure all went as planned, but, I noticed, wiping a few tears of her own.

And then it was over. We clapped as the bridal couple swept down the aisle, then around a column, reappearing to laughter and renewed applause.

Although the “official” wedding had taken place in the morning, this evening’s symbolic wedding was more formal and everyone was in a reflective mood.

Chris, the bride's brother

Dan, Tony, and Gianni share a few words before the symbolic ceremony

It's just about time!

On the terrace, a chair had been set for Jan. Nichole wanted a little bouquet to be gathered from the garden flowers and laid on the seat in memory of her mom. When I mentioned it to Donatella, she took the task upon herself. Donatella is a magician with plants and tends to them as her profession. She grabbed the scissors and set out to create a sweet arrangement worthy of any florist.

An honorary seat for Jan

Donatella made a sweet bouquet

Father of the bride waits for his girl

As does the groom

Kris contemplates the solemnity of the day

The violinist arrived, then the English-speaking officiant (with English accent!). Everything was in order.

The violinist and the English officiant, ready to do their parts

The guests (the same group that had been in attendance at the morning municipio ceremony, minus Angelo) gathered on the upper terrace, settling onto our assigned seats.

Strains of violin music wafted through the air, mingling with the distant, maybe imagined, sighs of the sea. The cloth canopy protected us from the still sharp sun, slanting towards the hillside.

Kris took his place at the front, the limitless expanse of water and sky behind him melding together to form an ethereal blue altar. A boutonniere rested over his heart and onto its ribbon he had inked his dad’s initials: BMM, for Brian Michael Morgan. Now all parents were in attendance, in one way or another.

In the meantime, the florist arrived. Two young fellows brought in the flowers, and we tried to find out-of-the-way places for the bouquet and boutonnieres. One of the guys practically had a stroke when I started to put Nichole’s bouquet in the fridge, thinking that would help keep it from wilting.

These petals would be strewn on the terrace,
a floral carpet for the bride

Nakita and Donatella ready to strew the petals on the upper terrace

They also brought two large floral displays for the terrace, but didn’t know exactly where to place them. While they waited for someone to direct them, they sat at the lower terrace table, smoking and chatting with Gianni.

Gianni clowns with the florist

The photographer arrived and joined the melee in the bride’s bedroom. I adjourned to my own bedroom with Donatella and Nakita to finish getting dressed. Sharon and Dan were ready, and started the party off in the kitchen.

Gianni feigns a serious look, while pretending to tie a plastic wrapper from the flowers around his neck.
Tony wonders if he’s serious…you never know with Gianni!

The Visitor

Gino bounded into the bedroom where Donatella, Nakita, and I were finishing getting ready. He told us that the guys had all just seen something amazing. A pure white dove had touched down on the the terrace wall and sat there awhile. Chris had time to greet it and snap a picture before it flew off.

This was too strange. Why would a dove land in the midst of all this activity, calm as you please? As with the white butterfly earlier, we had not been visited by any white doves during any previous days.

You can laugh, but as Gino related this to me, I felt goosebumps all over my body and was inexplicably overcome with emotion. Donatella and Nakita wanted to know why I was weeping. I told them in Italian what the guys had seen and then their eyes teared up as well. “Era Jan! Era Jan!” exclaimed Donatella. It was Jan, she said.

Later, back home in California, Nichole told me that she and Kris believe that the white butterfly had been a greeting from her mom, Jan, and the white dove had been a visit from Kris’ dad, Michael.

What better way for parents gone from this physical earth to make their spiritual presence known to their children on one of the most important days of their lives? Whatever one believes, there was no doubt that in some way, Jan and Michael were among us.

The villa was a flurry of activity. Anna arrived to assist us with the last-minute details and make sure everything went smoothly. All the women convened in Nichole’s bedroom while the guys readied themselves elsewhere.